


never thought that we wouldn't rule the world

by Tano



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Sexy Times, Shitty Relationships, Shitty people - Freeform, Smut, Time Skips, abuse sort of, also sort of abuse, shitty people in love, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tano/pseuds/Tano
Summary: Funny how things turn out. You show up to a bar to meet your fiance's ex-wife girlfriend thing, and a few years later you've married her instead. Go figure.
Relationships: Pedri Nanezgani/Nevy Nervine, Wrathia Bellarmina/Nevy Nervine, Wrathia Bellarmina/Pedri Nanezgani
Kudos: 13





	never thought that we wouldn't rule the world

**Author's Note:**

> hello i wrote this a long time ago for a friend and then super duper hated it so bad i gave them money instead  
> so if it sucks  
> yeah i know

She'd gotten there early. Two hours early, and then had waited for three. Maybe he'd been hoping he'd show up and she'd have long gone, but instead she sat where the note had directed him. A corner booth in the very back, emptied wine glasses lined up beside her. To hide her glowing skin she'd chosen a heavy-looking burgundy coat.  
With the hood to her coat pulled up, she sat with her arms crossed on the table and her head face down on to them. Her famous scarlet hair was tucked inside, although a few stray hairs were curled against her forehead. To anyone else in the room, maybe she was just another melancholy drunk in the crowd. Another forlorn woman to add to someone's bucket list.   
Pedri, the man who had received the note requesting his presence here, knew her as she was. He knew her as many things. A jealous and scorned ex-lover of his fiancee, a vicious creature of the battlefield, and finally, The Empress of this particular galaxy.  
He didn't believe the woman quite deserved the last title, which, was something he planned to fix. Just not tonight.   
She'd chosen a seaside bar, probably in the hopes that Nevy would accompany him like the note had requested. He had chosen not to inform his lover however, and had instead chosen to appear alone.  
The lights are surprisingly bright for a bar this time of night, and had he not just been outside a moment ago, he would've assumed it was daylight. The place is even a little crowded, to his surprise. It was odd, but perfect in it's intent- if he was guessing the intent correctly, at least.  
When he finally sits down on the opposite end of the booth, Wrathia still doesn't look up. He politely signals for a server and orders a drink, pausing a moment before requesting a glass of water for his company. Before he can finish the request, his company raises her hand herself and cancels the glass of water, asking for her eighth glass of wine.   
Amused, their server takes the request and walks off before being flagged down by another patron. Pedri sighs, looking down at her with what most people would assume would be a mixture of pity and disgust.  
"Where's Nevy?" She asks, adjusting her head slightly just so he can see her eyes above the crook of her arm. They glow a perfect amber, vibrant in pools of red.  
"She didn't want to see you."  
In turn, Wrathia laughs, finally lifting her head. He can admit, she is beautiful, even when her makeup is smeared. Maybe even more so.  
"You didn't tell her, did you? She'd never let you come alone if you had."  
He snorts, confirming her guess.  
"That's fine." Just as she says it, the server comes back by with their drinks.  
Wrathia takes hers before it can even touch the table, placing it to her lips and taking a sip. She makes an appreciative sound, downing a little over half with ease. It was no secret the Queen was a lush, but it seemed a little different now that he watched her in person. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it.  
He lets the server set his own drink on the table, but doesn't touch it.  
"Tell me, why did you call me call me here? Surely it wasn't just so I could watch you spoil yourself."  
She gives him a slow blink, the kind that a drunk makes when they're trying to put together a sentence they only heard half of.  
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Professional stick up someone's ass..."  
He doesn't appear to be amused by her retort, and clears his throat.  
"If you have no further business with me, I'll take my leave."  
He begins to take a step out of the booth when she grabs him by his sleeve.  
"Oh, calm down. I just wanted to talk... Just a little bit."  
Very audibly, he sighs, but pulls his leg back beneath the table.  
Her fingerprint has been burned into the cuff of his jacket.  
"So... You been, taking care of her?" The rest of her wine disappears down her throat, as if the words had left her parched.  
"Of course, and not just because of your threats of otherwise."  
"Good." The word sounds kind of funny, for some reason.  
"Why did you call me here-"  
"I just felt like it. What were you going to do? Say no?" She leans her cheek against her palm, elbow on the table.   
He presses his lips into a firm line, not intimidated by her leverage of power, but not in the mood to argue. Pedri preferred not to argue regardless of the situation. He would much rather cease issues in such a way that the other person would find themselves without words to continue.  
Wrathia, from his experience, never lacked something to say. He loathed it, which is why he had avoided contact with her from the beginning. It just so happened that lead to him meeting her ever so lovely ex-wife, who happened to find Wrathia Bellarmina as tactless and dumb as he did.   
"Cat got your tongue?" She flashes, ironically, a chesire-like grin. It makes him uncomfortable.  
"No, I am simply wondering how your last two brain cells died. Knowing you, they probably killed eachother."  
Her expression remains neutral, and she doesn't move to say anything.  
He considers her silence a blessing until he finds that her foot has been shoved directly between his legs in a very unpleasant manner.  
She removes her foot a moment later, finding his pained grunt and change of posture to be satisfactory.  
As Pedri stiffly regains his composure, glaring at her all the while, Wrathia sighs loudly, letting her head fall from her hand and back on to the table as it had been when he'd arrived.  
"Has she ever choked you, Pedri?"  
He blinks, unable to respond. It was jarring to hear, completely unexpected from her casual tone.  
"Excuse me?"  
"It's what I've been wondering. Now that you two are to be married so soon, I've just been... Thinking about it."  
"No, I... Suppose not? Why in the heavens would you ask?"  
"It's private."  
The two words are very quiet. He can barely hear them, yet they're the only ones he can hear in the room filled with people talking endlessly.  
He chooses to respond coldly in an attempt to get an answer, even just a hint. Admittedly he was offput by her words, and vaguely confused. He wouldn't be surprised if Nevy had hurt Wrathia at some point. Wrathia herself was known to be very violent, and Nevy, regardless of what she taught each and every sunday morning, was no pacifist; neither was he. What he is intrigued by, is not about Nevy at all.   
Why would Wrathia be so upset about this? Years later, after she herself is married and Nevy is about to be? She was obviously still hung up on her. He knew that. Nevy knew that. Anybody who looked between the two knew that.   
Yet, during the time that had passed, Wrathia had never contacted them. Not to his knowledge, at least. Though he was sure he would have noticed something. Nevy was so easily disturbed when the Empress was mentioned.  
So why now? Why reach out now of all times?   
"If she ever tried to hurt you, it would've been your fault. That much, is very obvious about what was between you and _my_ Fiancee."  
But she doesn't respond.  
She's lost in a dream.

-

The room is warm and humid, a breeze from the window offering the aftertaste of salt. Everything is rather neat and organized, but not too much. A few things have been fumbled with here and there. Just enough to add warmth to the ornate furniture within. Bed posts carved from rare shades of coral and only the finest of silks to adorn it; a vanity to match with pearl knobs and intricate engravings on each drawer.   
It was only right for it to be so very grand. It belonged to the loveliest of princesses, a gifted covettess by the name of Nevy Nervine. The only child of her parents and thought to be the reincarnation of the planet's patron Goddess, she was the beacon of their future. Her gifts allowed her to speak with gods of realms far beyond her own, only further enhanced by her evident Biofluxite abilities. It was the belief of both the church and the people that Nevy would be the highest priestess to have ever ruled their empire. However, she wasn't due to return to the room for a period of time. There was however, someone else though. A particular someone who had crawled in through the window and tumbled on to the floor. Someone, who, was rather out of place in a castle of Covettess.  
The person in question laid herself out across the bed, huffing to herself. She had blood stains on her clothing, and a bit more dried in dots on her cheek. Beneath her clothing and stained skin, surged heat. Endless heat. An infinity of it, really. Magic so potent and vile that it affected her flesh and glowed as if she were made of molten rock.  
There was only one person who could touch the intruder without fear, and that person was the owner of this room. So who exactly was the person laid out across the bed?  
Wrathia Bellarmina, the third and youngest princess of the Vengess royal family-- but to Wrathia, most importantly. the /girlfriend/ of Nevy Nervine.  
Which, she worried, wouldn't for long- considering the fight they'd had the day before.  
It had been over something silly too, though that was mainly Wrathia's belief.  
Nevy had heard some kind of oracle-thing, and had kneeled to pray during a date. Wrathia, remembering how important this was to her girlfriend, and the many cold shoulders she'd received after interrupting it before, took an impatient step to the side and attempted to, I don't know, not ask the gods or whatever to call back after their date. It definitely made her feel kind of good though, thinking about what a good girlfriend she definitely was.  
Anyway, twenty minutes later after Wrathia had about lost her mind due to boredom and a crowd of admiring onlookers had stopped to step down and pray with her girlfriend, she seemed to be finishing up. Wrathia, trying her absolute best to be considerate about it, decided to try and hurry her and the apparent god up.  
She took a quiet step toward Nevy and the g0d that was ruining their date, and just kind of made a, "hurry up and leave before I slit your throat" kind of gesture, specifically to the god.  
Normally the spirit or god would be completely concentrated on Nevy, and never paid attention to her. It never actually occurred to Wrathia that maybe she wasn't supposed to be seeing these kinds of things, and definitely not that it had anything to do the time she tried to swim in the space goop they stored in the alchemy storeroom back at her home- but apparently she wasn't. Wrathia couldn't actually hear anything anyway, and she'd always figured that was the important part.   
Nevy, noticing the god's distraction, turned her head and found herself looking at her girlfriend, who was making a sour looking face-- directly at the sea foam god.   
The god who promptly, looking disturbed, disappeared.   
After that, Nevy had told Wrathia that their date was over, and that she was going home. Wrathia had tried to apologize for whatever she'd done, about making mean faces or whatever, but apparently that hadn't been the issue. Either way, Wrathia was eventually abandoned outside of Nevy's home, the door slammed shut in front of her face.

-

She flinched, opening her eyes to see a glass of cold water being abruptly placed in front of her, practically dropping it into place. For the moment between sleep and wake, the thud of the glass had seemed to be the slam of a door.   
Wrathia sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Out of stubborness, she doesn't touch the glass of water, even if it would've helped her somewhat.  
"The only reason I'm still here is because you've wasted too much of my time for me to leave and not know why you actually called me here."  
Pedri hasn't made another move to leave yet, but anyone, even Wrathia, could tell he was at the end of whatever patience the man had.   
Though those people, and Wrathia, might've been wrong. Maybe his interest had been piqued just a little bit. Just enough for him to stay seated in front of her as he waited for her to respond.  
Why had Wrathia given him the note anyway? Why had she called him here?  
Sure, it might've been a ploy to get Nevy to show, but obviously that hadn't worked, and here she was, still in front of him.  
"I just wanted to wish you both well, is all."  
Wrathia slides out of the booth with lighter shoulders, and a hand holding her hood down as she walks towards the door. She'd left the bill for him, of course.  
She's already halfway across the street by the time he gets outside, a lit pipe in her hand. A trail of purple smoke hangs in the air behind her.   
Hearing the tavern door slam a second time, she glances back.   
A part of her wants to laugh at him, as his expression seems disgruntled. He doesn't bother to call after her, as it isn't in his nature to chase things. Pedri's three eyes bare down on her form, meeting her eyes in the dark.  
She stands in the middle of the road, as if she knew no traffic would come.  
"Oh, right." She turns around, resting her pipe.  
"Tell Nevy the spending is getting a bit out of control." The vengess knew this would only lead to questions, but beneath her grief is bitterness. A sourness she can taste still, years later.  
Maybe he knew. Maybe he didn't, maybe she felt better by giving him a hint. If he already knew, then this changed nothing. Wrathia knew. Wrathia knew and she still loved her, loved her so much that she didn't say more.  
Before Pedri could ask, she had found her transportation across the street and stepped inside, eventually leaving only the faint afterglow of her skin on his mind.  
He can hear the distant sound of the ocean's roar, and closes his eyes.

Opening one eye at a time, his eyes turn slowly a long with his head, to peer back behind him.  
Three months have passed, and he's working- as usual. He'd just returned from the field to hand in a report when he'd walked past an open door in the planetary transmit building, which also was host to any important documents being shipped between planets.   
As he'd been striding a long towards the actual transmit room, he'd heard some of the on site librarians discussing something.  
Most might have let it fade into the background of the usual noise of such a busy building, but admittedly Pedri was a bit of gossip. He wasn't one to spread it much, but he did like to hear what was going on around him, office drama or not.  
"Ah, Ms. Enyos? Where should I put these? They're treasury documents, but I'm not sure what kind."  
There's some muffled shuffling and the sound of a box being opened.  
"Ah, fund transfers."  
"Shouldn't these be sent to-?"  
"No, they're from the royal family. They move with the current living descendant to the new capitol."  
"Oh. I see."  
Pedri is a few feet past the door now, but the next few exchanges catch his attention.  
"I didn't know the Empress was religious."  
"She isn't. The goverment was cut from the church years ago due to that specific reason."  
"Then why are these from her personal account?"  
The other librarian hushed her and returned to whatever they had been doing before.  
Now Pedri stood there, looking back at the open door. He skimmed through the pages of his report, judging how long the process would be to file them into the system and send them on their way.  
He decides either way, he can make time to come back by the sorting room. 

Later on that night, he lays down beside his fiancee` and asks why she decided against building the addition to the Cathedral. She wipes a tear from her eyes, sighing into the air.   
"We had to send the money to support missionaries traveling to another planet. Another planet is in ruins and... I don't know what to do. I pray to the gods, but they can only do so much. If only we could stop her sooner, Pedri."  
Pedri leans over, kissing her forehead.  
He never replies.

The next morning, he goes through openings for his job position in the capitol. An hour and a few pots of coffee later, Pedri finds not quite what he is looking for, yet almost too convenient.  
He tells Nevy he has to leave for business yet again, and Nevy in turn responds she too has business. Something about traveling to visit the refugees.   
Well, now they were both being sly about work related things, weren't they?

"Why are you here?"  
She's lounging across her own desk, pipe in hand, papers scattered about across the floor and herself. Her hair hangs off of the desk in thick, wavy locks.   
There is a part of him that would like feel each silky strand between his fingers.  
"There was a position open, and as thrilling as my previous position was, I was due for a change of pace. I am to be married in a year's time, and there are many things I would like to achieve before then."  
She exhales a ploom of lavender smoke, her eyes glowing yellow behind the colored wisps.  
"Is that so?"

As the Queen's advisor, one is expected to travel great distances on her very whims-- or, more dutifully stated, important politcal matters. Right.  
They traveled across a great desert now, filled with black sand and dry air. It is not an uncomfortable climate for Vengess, but to a good chunk of their party, it might as well have been a tour of hell.  
Pedri was sitting cross-legged in the sand towards the edge of the group, flipping through documents and what not as the rest of the caravan stopped to rest. Canteens were passed around, and words of encouragement were spread.  
Pedri was not fond of either.  
As he listens to his traveling companions get ready to make camp, he notices a certain lack of a very loud redhead.  
During his travels with her over the last five months, he had learned a lot of things about her. Like how she liked to boss people around about anything and everything. That much wasn't surprising, but what was kind of surprising about it was that it was sometimes, actually kind of helpful.   
She could make even the most useless of people do a decent job, even if the person cried about it later. It was almost, dare he say it, impressive.  
Pedri stood, sliding the documents he was reading back into his satchel. Walking over to one of the servants that accompanied them, he asked where he might find Wrathia.  
The servant, a tough looking creature with heavily calloused hands, pointed him in the direction of a hill not too far off in the distance. As the light faded from the sky he could spot the glow of her form as she ascended.  
He caught up to her easily, but didn't announce his presence.   
At least, he didn't at first. He felt obligated to say something when she began to undress.  
Red and gold fabric floated softly to the ground behind her as she untied her traveling garments, revealing the soft light of her back.  
Pedri blinked several times, swallowing back in surprise as opens his mouth.  
"Wrathia-"  
She looks back, slightly in surprise- but doesn't cover herself.  
In turn, he does not look away.  
"Need something?" She asks, dropping her dress to the ground.  
Her hips sway as she hooks her thumbs into the fabric of her panties, dragging them to her knees before stepping out of them, dropping them into the sand.  
The cat appears to have his tongue again.  
"Oh, never mind whatever you had to say. Tell me, Pedri, what is your resistance to lava?"  
It must be Nevy praying for him, for thankfully she was not looking back at him. Otherwise, she would have seen Pedri turn several different shades closer to it.  
Thankfully he managed to gather himself and almost respond before she continued.  
"You know, all of this sand is volcanic, right? I mean, obviously. Smart-ass Pedri had to have known."  
She tosses her hair over her shoulder, reaching the top of the hill. Wrathia leans down on to her knees, placing her hand into the sand and pushing down.  
Bit by bit, the blackness is swallowed by the hot churning of magma.   
Black to gold, a fine grain to smooth liquid.  
"Well?" She asks, somehow having already slipped into the pool, very clearly enjoying herself.  
Silently, Pedri sticks his hand into the mass of burning liquid, letting liquid starlight slip through his fingers.  
It hurts, but only slightly. Had he not been focusing on it, the pain might have been pleasant.   
Wrathia cups her hands beneath his, catching each drop as it falls from his.  
"It is most delightful, is it not?" She smiles, and he feels as though the cat has crawled from his tongue into his brain.

He fell in love during the fall. As leaves drifted from trees and eventually disintegrated into the earth, he drifted with them, and instead, landed into the hair of a certain vengess.

Six months later, they are seen together more often than not.  
Nevy had found out about his new job post, and was, understandably, very upset about it. She had cried and sobbed and locked herself away in their bedroom as Pedri tried to explain away reasons he had taken it.  
"You had changed, Pedri, I knew, but I had not known the reason until now." She peaks through the door with tear filled eyes.  
"She has turned you, Pedri. She's beautiful, is she not? She glows and pours gold from her fingertips but you know not what is beneath her skin, Pedri. She's..." She cups her mouth, shaking her head as more salt water falls from her glimmering eyes.   
He finds himself unable to do anything but comfort her. He kisses each tear from each cheek, pulling her to his chest and telling her how dreadful he finds the Queen, but wanted so desperately to work more closely with went on in the galaxy.  
"For you," He murmurs, softly into her hair.  
"For me?" She asks, looking up at him. Her eyes seem to be made of emerald and glass. Works of art, fit for the windows in her cathedrals.  
"I know how you worry over the Queen's method and I wanted to do something about it. For you, my love."  
Her eyes are cold beneath her tears, similar in both appearance and temperature to the stones they remind him of.  
"Then please... Please stay home tonight, do not go to her. I am soon to be your wife. Together, when we are wed, we can make the differences together. Please... I'm worried she could hurt you.."  
"But Nevy, dearest, if I do not go now, what would they think?"  
"Oh, Pedri-! I do not care what they think, stay home." Her tone changes slightly now. It sounds inviting, like a siren's call. He could stay home. Just for tonight. Wrathia had done fine without him before.  
She did not need him.  
But he wanted her.  
He smiles patronizingly, kissing Nevy's cheek and telling her not to wait up for him.  
"Now, now, do not be greedy. I will be yours entirely in a few months' time. I just want to keep appearances, darling."  
She watches him leave, the tears in her eyes suddenly very dry.

-

Hearing the door close, the young Wrathia Bellarmina sat up straight in the silk sheet, nearly sliding off of the bed when her eyes of amber met ones of emerald.  
She shot up, nearly falling on her face as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, pulling her as close as she possibly could.  
"Wrathia-"  
"I fixed the problem, Nevy." She pulls back, grinning ear to ear.  
She smells like smoke.  
"I figured out what was wrong, so I fixed it, and-"  
Nevy motions for her to sit on the bed. The princess is still dressed from choir practice, her iridescent clothing floating about her, giving her the aura of an angel.  
"Oh, Wrathia, you didn't do anything wrong." Her voice is light and forgiving, but her girlfriend finds it to be very dry.  
"No, Nevy, I'm serious. I asked about it-"  
"-To who?"  
"I asked my aunties and uncles."  
Nevy fretted her brows together, not sure what to make of it considering Wrathia referred to her father's concubines as her, 'aunties and uncles.' Apparently, they were the only ones in the entire castle that had given Wrathia the time of day before she'd shown her well-known ability in combat magic.  
"-And they fixed it. I just, whenever I start, y'know, I can just," She pulled out a pipe made of violet wood. It smells sweet and somewhat earthy. Nevy immediately takes a few steps back, recognizing the scent and not wanting her abilities to be affected.  
"... Smoke this- Oh! right, right, you shouldn't get near it, right-" Wrathia proceeds to toss it out the window as hard as she can before realizing that she's going to have to go and find it later.  
Nevy stares at her with a lack of empathy, as if she's trying to understand something.  
Wrathia scratches the back of her neck sheepishly, looking back to Nevy. She takes a deep breath, making herself smile.  
"So, I uh, did good right?"  
Nevy doesn't reply, just staring at her.  
"I um, totally deserve a kiss, right...?" She seems genuinely hopeful.  
The covetess suddenly smiles, sitting down on the bed beside her.   
"Yes, you do. You did your best, just for me, Wrathia."  
She cups Wrathia's cheeks, which light up beneath her gentle touch.  
They kiss.  
Their mouths move against one another, soft and sweet. Wrathia mumbles Nevy's name as they part for a moment, Nevy pushing her back against the bed. Wrathia wraps her arms around her girlfriend's neck, pulling her down with her. Just the rustle of silk beneath them and and the sound of their lips parting and meeting one another in unison.  
Nevy slips a hand between Wrathia's thighs, her fingers working magic over the fabric which separated her skin from Wrathia's clit.   
"Nevy-- a-ah-" Her name is murmured in bliss, as it should be. Nevy almost finds it funny.  
Her name should be murmured in the bliss of enlightenment. It had been, merely hours ago.  
Now it is murmured in sin. Bittersweet, burning sin.  
Nevy pulls away from the kiss as her fingers move with more speed. The fabric is wet now, her fingertips feeling slick.  
She lifts herself slightly, gaining balance with her knees on each side of her girlfriend. The vengess doesn't notice the slight change in position as she is presently lost to the world.  
A hand slides over Wrathia's throat, beginning to press down. Finally she opens her eyes, to find Nevy staring down at her. She doesn't seem to be in a similar mood as Wrathia.  
Her body, despite what her brain is currently trying to process, is already at the edge. She tries to get a word out, anything-- something, because for the first time in a long time, Wrathia feels a little afraid.  
The pressure between her hips and the pressure trying to crush her neck unite for a moment, and so many things end at once.

-

"Wrathia?"  
For what seems the hundredth time, her adviser has woken her.   
Sometimes she smacks his hand away, other times, she sits up with a jolt.  
Her eyes appear moist as they dart around before settling on Pedri. The Empress' posture is rigid and is somewhat hunched, and for the first time Pedri had ever witnessed it, startled.  
His voice becomes more serious.  
"Wrathia."  
He places a hand on her shoulder, kneeling at the side of chair.  
She pushes him off -a lot more weakly than usual- grumbling and wiping her eyes.  
"What, what?" Wrathia continues to rub at her eyes as if someone had just attempted to poke them out.  
He pulls one of her hands away, looking at her.   
She blinks.  
"I bet I could beat you at chess right now."  
Which, she doesn't. She loses as horrifically as she always does, going full offense and ignoring everything else on the board. Honestly, Pedri was glad chess wasn't an entirely accurate representation of the battlefield. Otherwise, Wrathia certainly wouldn't have been on the throne.   
They play a few rounds and a few hours pass by with their usual banter, and whatever nightmare Wrathia had experienced seemed all but forgotten.  
Pedri, checking his pocket watch, noted that if he didn't get started on his paperwork soon, he'd end up having to stay the night to finish it.  
"Then stay."  
"Very funny, Bellarmina. I'm sure as much as you would love to have me stay the night and do your work for you-"  
"That's not what I meant."  
She stands up from her chair, places a knee on to the table between them, and leaning over, kisses him.  
He remembers watching black sand melt into a pool of gold, and thinks of the way magma dripped over his fingers and into her palms- the moment is similar, but this time, he has become the stardust she cradles in her hands. He has never felt this way before, but does now, and knows now, without her, everything is but black, timeless, sand.  
Her kiss is ravenous and desperate, and tasting of her favorite coffee. Which he knew, would now be his favorite too.  
His hands move to her waist and down to her hips, appreciating the curve of her body, and the warmth it gave from beneath her clothing. He can feel her breasts press against him as she leans into the kiss, her body shifting it's entire weight on to the small game dedicated table between them.  
Their lips break a part for a moment, allowing the two to exchange glances at one another.   
Her mouth is swollen and wet from the kiss, her eyes meeting his with all the hunger he could feel on her lips.   
This was all he'd been thinking about for the past ten months, if he was honest. Her mouth on his, his body on hers. His fingers in her hair and hers dragging across his back.  
How many wet dreams had he become victim of due to Wrathia Bellarmina?  
Before he can think about it, she is off of the table and into lap, meeting him with another kiss. Her tongue moves past his lips, unbothered by his many teeth. He runs a hand through her hair before resting it at the base of her head, and she moans into the kiss. She reaches for his free hand and leads it to her breast, squeezing down to direct him.   
More eager than she can imagine, he pushes his hand beneath her shirt, feeling her skin prickle at the contact with cool air. His hands move to her back, unhooking her bra as quickly as his claws could manage. In turn, Wrathia pulls her shirt off over her head and throws it to the floor, her bra soon joining it.   
His mouth is quickly on her breasts, sucking and dragging his teeth across her exposed skin. He lifts himself from his chair just enough to push her back on to the table. Dozens of chess pieces fall to the ground and roll to corners of the room, some probably never to be found.   
She can feel his erection press against her, and she finds herself anticipating having it to herself. Wrathia wraps her legs around his waist, grinding herself against it. Her mouth opens slightly as she savors the growing heat.   
Both of them find themselves mindlessly grinding against one another as if they were in heat. Pedri grunts softly, his face in her hair as he tries to gather himself enough to make a suggestion.  
They could come like this, but they both know they'd regret it.   
"Pedri, ah, your pants," She hooks a finger into the waist, tugging at them.  
He fumbles with them for a moment before Wrathia reaches over and helps. He's far too thankful to feel embarrassed about it.  
Of course, while she's over there, she decides to make him owe her more of his thanks. His pants finally around his knees, she tugs away his underwear, licking her lips as his straining cock comes into view.   
She wraps her hand around it, watching him flinch as she begins to stroke him.  
"Don't come, okay?" She grins before taking the tip into her mouth, her tongue sliding over the tip.  
He's unable to promise her that, feeling himself jerk at the sensation. His hand fists in her hair as she takes him in further. Her own hand is in her panties, teasing herself as she sucks him off.   
She moans softly, taking her time to torture to him. Pedri's head falls back, all three of his eyes squeezed shut as he repeats her name with each bob of her head.  
When his fist begins to tighten in her hair, she pulls away, precum left on the corner of her mouth.   
She licks it away as she removes the last of clothing, kicking her panties away.  
"I wanna be on top." It's basically a command, but Pedri doesn't mind.  
Wrathia rips a curtain from the window, laying it out on to the floor like a blanket before getting to her knees, Pedri soon lying on the floor beside her on their makeshift bed.  
One hand on his chest, she uses the other to guide him inside of her, eyes baring into his as she gritted her teeth in pleasure. As soon as the tip is inside, she pushes herself down eagerly, resulting in a curse from the both of them.  
"I've been waiting for this, three-eyes-" Wrathia begins to roll her hips only a moment later, eyes closing as she does so. A hint of a smile is at the edges of her mouth.  
"Not as long as I have." His hips move to meet hers, and sweet nothings become the last thing on their minds.  
Time becomes a foreign concept as they make use of their lust, curses continuing to slip between the teeth of carnivores. It isn't sweet, nor bitter, nor both. It is the taste of iron and salt, of fruit that had long fallen from the tree. Youth has no place here, and that makes it all the better.  
And she glows. She glows far more brilliantly than he has ever seen her glow. As her skin glistens with sweat, as she struggles to contain murmurs of his name-- she reached a divinity far higher than Nevy could have ever reached in his eyes.  
He has no shame in repeating her name, for she is the one screwing herself upon him, close to ending it all herself, for both her, and himself.  
Pedri reaches up to caress her cheek, and she leans into the touch, finally willing to murmur his name and let go.  
They lay in the afterglow, Wrathia's head against his chest and his arm wrapped around her, he thinks back ten months, to the Empress slipping him a note.

Two years later, he sits on a thickly cushioned stool inside of a lavishly furnished nursery. His unborn child is set in front of him, swaddled with silk and still beneath a thick layer of calcium shell. He takes out a note from his pocket, and holds it in front of him, as though the child might read it.   
With a blood-red grin, he speaks.  
"I can only hope your handwriting isn't as horrific as your mother's."


End file.
